Confiscate My Words
by talcumpowder
Summary: Perhaps if he didn't have the words, it wouldn't be a problem. Zemyx/AkuRoku


**Pre-Notes:** Happy Halloween! I've been listening to too much _Wicked_. Do not ask what that has to do with anything. This is vaguely told from third limited on Axel. It was hard to do.

**Disclaimer:** Sora would srsly fight with a keyboard if I owned it.

**Summary:** Perhaps if he didn't have the words, it wouldn't be a problem.

* * *

**confiscate my words**  
"_If there are no words, I have no problem._"

If one were to trace the escalating problem back to it's source, it was fairly simple. The entirety of the current mess the Organisation was facing could be traced back to the seemingly naïve and simple number IX. The wide, clear blue-green eyes paired with the ever-so slightly mussed, dirty blonde hair made IX look like he knew nothing about what was going on.

It was all an act. IX knew exactly what he was doing and how people saw him as. It is, after all, the ones you think are the least capable that will bring you to your knees.

VIII noticed first. The catlike eyes of green watched everything with a hunger for trouble. It went right along with the flaming mass of hair, VIII always wanted conflict. By his reasoning, conflict brought fire and fire was all he lived for. Ergo, conflict must be good.

The conflict between IX and VI intrigued him the most. He happened by the library one day when they were meeting. He had to get a book for XIII, because the boy was really getting on his nerves with the constant why why _why_ of it all. There wasn't any conflict in those watery-blue eyes, so VIII usually dismissed XIII.

Back to the library. IX and VI were tucked away in one of the many little alcoves. VIII wouldn't have noticed them if he hadn't been there right when they spoke.

"Confiscate my words," VI said.

VIII had ducked behind a stack of books. His eyes glittered with interest, IX was kissing VI brutally and this was a good thing because submissive VI was most definitely blackmail. There wasn't anything that seemed submissive about VI except, perhaps, his height. Still, the dark navy eyes (or was it eye? VIII didn't know.) seemed to warned you that the moment you fucked with VI, it meant trouble.

After a minute or two of the kissing and power play, VIII got bored in the way that cats do when nothing of interest happens. He left the library without alerting IX or VI and gave XIII his damn book. What he saw didn't cross his mind again until he was walking past VI's room a couple weeks later.

"Confiscate my words."

VIII vaguely wonders what that means. But only for a moment, because he has a meeting with the Superior. It would seem that not everyone appreciates the beauty of a burning oven. Well, okay he might have done it on purpose. It was pretty though.

What? Oh yes, the situation between the two. VI, it seemed, was the tiniest bit masochistic. And even though IX seemed like he was completely unaware of the world, he was actually the one who sought VI out. And then he found VI's one weakness.

None of this really interested VIII until it got more and more frequent. Hallways, empty rooms, stairwells . . . It was like they were everywhere he was. Then he started paying less attention to that horrible whiney XIII and more attention to the conflict between VI and IX. There are hushed rumours of another castle and VIII is interested in that too.

He finally figures out what VI's weakness is. It's the words. Though they are mere facsimiles of reality, they have phantom emotions. VIII once heard IV say a tongue-twisting term that could be applied to them. It started with an_ h_, he thinks, but maybe not.

But VI has nothing but words. Except he has all the wrong ones, and so he feels that they have betrayed him. At least, that is what VIII has gathered.

And so, the power exchanged between IX and VI was that of words. IX wouldn't allow VI to speak until he said so. When the words are taken away, there are a few precious moments where VI is allowed to be as whole as a phantom can be.

"It's still all speculation," VIII says to himself quietly.

He smiles the wide grin of the crazy Cheshire as he plans out the demise of everyone. This will be the best fire around. Fire, fire, fire would be all that one would see. VIII figured that must be the epitome of life, to be able to have that much fire in one place.

And so VIII collects information. He collects scraps of discarded self that the others have left behind and pieces them together into a collage of despair. It is his masterpiece.

If anyone noticed, they didn't say anything. Perhaps they had forgotten that the crazy ones are not the ones you should brush off. They make the mistake of forgetting that Axel is not like the rest of them. He is quite intelligent when he stops being distracted, and he is a liar.

XIII knows this. He knows because he is a liar too, because he has secret knowledge that he isn't supposed to. So maybe he does know who this _Sora_ is . . . It is not wise to let people know. And so, once he feels threatened, he leaves. For the benefit of VIII, he tries to leave quietly.

VIII catches him just as he's about to leave. XIII isn't surprised. He knew, somehow, that the spectacular downfall of everyone in the other castle was a kind of show for him. VIII, as much as he thinks XIII is whiney, quite likes him.

"No one," XIII says although he does not believe, "would miss me."

"That's not true," he hears vaguely, "I would."

But back to IX and VI. VIII slipped into the other castle. They don't even notice him for a little while, but he makes his presence known. It's hard to miss the flames of his hair. VI is aloof, uncaring, and no one notices how he cries silently.

VIII carefully collects this and other information. His slanted eyes of emerald observe the other people in the castle. He knows their secrets they guard in what they think is the safety of their rooms. Nothing is sacred to VIII though, and none truly take heed of this. He listens to them and is not surprised when VI falls into the spiral known as longing.

"The flames of passion consume the weak," says VIII in recitation, "because they allow it."

There is such a glee in his eyes as he watches VI fall. IX extends a hand to help him up, but just once. And VI slips into the spiral again. XI falls in with him, though on a different emotion. XI falls in with greedy, grabby hands that stink of arrogance.

VIII is vaguely pleased. Only vaguely, because he cannot truly be pleased, but pleased nonetheless. XI is doing all the work for him. The fire will be spectacular, he thinks, because XI is so arrogant. He is correct, the castle falls and it is all XI's fault. Some would say it was really his, but he knows better.

The fire was a glorious painting of yellow, red and orange. It is the most beautiful thing VIII has seen in a long time. Barring XIII, of course. Nothing can compare to the brilliance of XIII.

VIII is having a hard time sorting out details. It's all so overshadowed by the blinding fire. All he knows is that, if you were trying to find the source of the current problem, it would lead you back to IX.

Those wide, innocent eyes held depths of unknown malice. VIII knew why XIII stayed away from IX now, he was scary. He had a presence that commanded you to pay attention.

"Look at me," IX seemed to whisper, "and only me."

It is, XIII muses, the ones you think are the least capable that will bring you to your knees.

* * *

**Postit-Notes:** Happy Halloween! Have some psycho!Axel in celebration. I think that psycho!Axel has become my new favourite. I still really like bastard!Axel though . . . Yes, um, I fucked with canon a little because it didn't quite work the way I wanted it to.


End file.
